Prisoner || [completed]

I || Carlisle

" You bring good to my lonely life, honestly. "

01

The door slammed so hard, the hinges rattled as Carlisle walked out and ran towards his car. The rain was still pelting down like it did mid-October in Leicester.

Unknown to him, Old Maggie who lived next door was watching from the window of her porch, shaking her head at the hopeless young love just as the man zoomed away. The thin walls allowed her to be a first-hand witness to every insults thrown at the other, the cuss words that followed and after that, every moans and groans.

Her old ears sure had experienced enough to last her for the few years she had left here on earth.

As Carlisle sped into the night, spraying puddles as he went, he replayed the words she had said to him in his head:

"At least he loves me. He can accept me for who I am. I am a druggie but I didn't choose to be. I f*cking hate you for not accepting that. For not accepting me!"

She broke his heart like he had broken hers. He had called quits, said he was breaking up with her. They only hurt each other.

The most intimate they had been in a year was the rough, caveman sex they had almost every night after every quarrel. And after the sex, he dressed up, slammed the door and zoomed off. It was a daily routine.

He understood that she felt good after sniffing or injecting herself with drugs; the high made her forget her sorrows. She had been finding it hard to cope with life but he thought he was enough for her. He thought he was her everything. That after falling in love, she would die back on the old habit and let love be her new remedy but he was wrong.

He had told her the truth, but she remained adamant. Like the words he said that made her break down again, tearing at his heart:

"You didn't choose to be but you can choose not to be. Certain actions in life are about choice. You pick yours and leave other options open."

After what seemed like an endless drive, the car came to a halt at an entrance that led to rows and rows of trees. There was a gravel path five feet into the woods that led to a clearing. It wasn't just a clearing though, but the top of a cliff.

Just like the way he had found this place, Carlisle skipped the gravel; from the first over to the third over to the fifth over to the seventh one. And on and on like that. This was how he had taught himself to count at eight. He couldn't attend school like the rest of the kids his age due to his dyslexia.

At the end of the thirty-first stone, he got to the clearing and walked over to the edge of the cliff. He took a sit there and looked down. Whenever he came there before, he never went close to the edge as he was scared of heights. Instead, he stayed at the other side, hidden by the trees but Kris changed it all. She had grabbed his hand and led him to the edge of the cliff.

When she was with him, his fear meant nothing.

Kris was the one who had taught him the letters of the alphabets. She would recite the rhymes she learnt at school and force him to memorize them.

Kris was tough, but she had gotten broken at a young age. She would cry in his arms, right there at the top of the cliff. He was her shield. She depended on him and he, on her.

She was suicidal but despite that, he loved her.

*****

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